


Magus Falls

by Stariceling



Category: Chrono Trigger
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-25
Updated: 2005-02-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for Magus Castle and later side mission Ozzie's Fort. The aftermath told from Flea, Slash, Ozzie and Magus's points of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Queen of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: Not my characters, I'm only playing with their heads for a bit.) Note that while these chapters do work together as a series they are from three different points of view, only loosely connected by time and circumstance. Each one can be read on its own.
> 
> The first is a short piece from Flea's point of view. After Magus' defeat, the world needs a bit of reevaluating.

The night wind was making a mess of his hair. Flea raised one hand to push it back out of his face. He was sick of watching, and even more sick of waiting.

The humans swarmed over the castle below him. Though he could pick out the lights of each of their torches there were far too many to count. Flea didn’t try.

Slowly Flea turned his eyes away, rolling over to gaze up at the night sky instead. There were hundreds more stars than there had been torch lights. They were all the light anyone was going to get tonight. The moon had covered herself in darkness. She was no more than a patch of blackness on blackness, and it was possible that even that was imagined.

Flea had watched her cycles long enough to expect the black shroud that now covered her, but he still liked to think of it as a special consideration. The moon, the icy and beautiful Queen of darkness, was mourning for Magus.

They had never found his body, though even the most badly wounded had searched. Even Flea, who considered himself the most loyal of Magus’s followers, had been forced to accept that he was gone. If Magus still had any power left he would not have put up with the Mystics turning to a new leader.

Perhaps Flea did not go so far as to accept it. He submitted to the fact that Magus was gone. He would have liked to grieve, but had no way to do so without summoning unwanted attention. He had been fond of Magus in his own way. Flea was the first to owe his allegiance to Magus alone, the first true recruit into what would become his army. In return Magus had been there as Flea took his last steps out of childhood and welcomed his full powers. He had been the one to help Flea through the first pains of mastering his transformations, even if he did it just because he knew they would be useful to him.

Now that Magus was gone Flea decided he was probably the most powerful among the Mystics. That was the most consolation he thought he would be able to find. Not that many realized how closely matched they were. Magus had put so much of his power into pure force, ignoring the subtleties of illusion and transformation. It had been interesting for Flea to have a rival who used different methods than his own.

Magus had passionately pursued the noble arts of sorcery, unlike a particular Mystic Flea had to put up with. Flea’s thoughts turned, as the often did when he was upset, to Slash. No matter how frustrated he might be with his own troubles, he could always console himself with the thought that he would never be as weak as that swordsman.

Only, his physical training seemed to be having some useful side effects. Slash had recovered from his wounds almost twice as fast as everyone else. While he was ready and able to fight again, Flea was still confined to scouting and spying on humans.

At least his transformations were completely under his control again. Flea had spent a few weeks struggling not to show how painful they were when he was so completely drained. Those who knew he could transform were all convinced that it was an innate ability, and he would not allow them to discover otherwise. Magus was the only one who had shared that secret, and Flea had trusted that nothing could make Magus reveal anything. Magus was far too powerful to be coerced or intimidated.

That was something that had bothered Flea constantly. Magus was power personified. How could anyone have dared to storm their fortress to attack Magus? Flea would not forget those faces. He would get revenge someday. It had been a crime he could never forgive.

Beauty is Power, and Magus had more power than anyone. That was as good a way as any of explaining what he saw in Magus. That was what made him beautiful. It was that power that endeared Magus to him.

Only now that power was gone. Now Flea joined the Queen of Darkness in mourning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had never thought that this would confuse people, but "she" referred to in the end is the moon. The "Queen of Darkness" as Flea is thinking to himself.
> 
> I have always used "he" for Flea because he says he's a guy, and that's enough.


	2. Comfortably Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Magus' defeat. Slash muses on this new turn the world has taken.

This night was enough to bring misery to anyone unlucky enough to venture outside. The moon was dark and the wind brutally cold. It was more than enough to send any normal person seeking shelter.

Slash, however, was not a normal person. He had come to enjoy the cold. It helped to keep him from feeling the pains that still lingered all through his body.

Most of Slash’s life had been spent in training with the sword. He wanted to prove to the humans that he was superior to them by destroying them using their own methods. Magic made their destruction too easy. He had, in turn, been defeated by the last thing he thought he would ever see: magic-wielding humans.

The worst irony of all Slash had discovered only after the battle was over and the humans long gone. After a life of neglecting his natural Mystic talents, Slash’s body was now unable to process magical energy.

It hadn’t hurt him at all at the time, but any normal Mystic would have been able to deal with the aftermath of the battle better than he had. Even now traces of that energy lingered in his body, making his muscles weak and shaky when he tried to exert himself. He could hide the pain well enough, but he couldn’t ignore it completely.

Flea should have been immune to such tactics. Slash had expected Flea to have taken out their enemies and be waiting comfortably for his victory to be discovered. He was wrong. When he had found the magician, still unconscious, it had been obvious that they had managed to deal with him as well.

For the first time Slash had gained a sort of respect for Flea. He was forced to acknowledge the fact that the magic attacks that still lingered to pain him after the battle would have had no long term effects for a powerful magician like Flea. Not only that, but even while badly hurt and drained, his slender body near broken with wounds from the physical attacks he was unaccustomed to suffering, Flea had somehow managed to transform in order to search for Magus.

Here his opinion of Flea went back to condemning him as a fool. As far as Slash could see, Flea was still searching for Magus in between all of the spying he claimed to be occupied with. If Magus was dead then he was dead. Slash didn’t really care. All that mattered was that he was no longer in power and Slash was now expected to take orders from another source.

Slash had to admit that Magus had been strong in spite of his focus on magic. He had at least managed to take those bothersome intruders along with him, even if it appeared to be at the cost of his own life. For that last battle Slash found a passing moment to admire the former leader of the Mystics, but no more. He wouldn’t dwell on what was dead and gone.

With the moon dark he almost missed seeing Flea as he returned in his bat form. He made no sign that he recognized, or even noticed, Slash as he changed back to his normal form and entered Ozzie’s Fort.

Cold the night wind might be, but it was nothing compared to the display of indifference which the pretty Mystic regularly treated him to.

Slash felt his lips curl into a tiny, bitter smile. Flea wanted to bury himself in the past alongside Magus’s ghost, so it was no wonder he detested Slash’s presence. Slash had no use for the past, focusing only on the day’s battles. He might have found a way to force Flea’s mind out of the past as well if he didn’t insist on being so dead-eyed at facing anything after Magus’s death.

Regrettable, but inevitable. Slash gazed out into the darkness, his body blissfully numb.


	3. Live Another Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Magus' defeat, Ozzie thinks on the war between the mystics and the humans.

It was a bitterly cold night, and the musty old keep they had moved their base to was plagued by drafts. Ozzie was glad that Flea had deigned to light a fire before running off, though he expected Flea would need to warm himself after he had been out scouting.

Ozzie was enjoying the heat of that fire now. He had the half-devoured carcass of a young boar spread out in front of him, and a second kill was roasting over the fire. It would be ready when Slash and Flea came to their senses and came looking for food. Ozzie could hear sizzling as bits of fat dripped into the fire, and the creaking of one of his skeletal puppets as it clumsily tended to the meat.

There was little Ozzie enjoyed more than fresh-charred flesh. Maybe setting some of his skeleton children on a pack of squealing humans, but that was such a satisfying pastime that little could compare with it. It would be a long time before he could do that again.

It was such a waste. His beautiful, bloody revolution brought to heel by a few measly humans. Ozzie missed those days of power and plenty. He had even enjoyed battle, though he had never forgotten to keep one eye on his escape route. Better to flee and fight another day than to stand solid and be destroyed.

Magus had never understood that. The boy had been an explosive terror since the moment Ozzie found him. He looked aloof, but he completely immersed himself in his grisly work. That kind of single mindedness was acceptable only as long as he could handle the assassins sent after him.

After the humans brought down Magus’s castle, Ozzie had first suspected that Magus had taken a lesson from him after all and fled. He had been wrong about the much. If Magus had left of his own will, he would have regrouped with the rest of the Mystics long ago.

Or perhaps Magus thought his commanding position was forfeit even if he did reappear now. Slash had a strange flair for honor, and he probably wouldn’t forgive Magus for such sudden cowardice. Flea would never forgive Magus for abandoning him, if he wasn’t in contact with him now, and Ozzie watched Flea well enough to be sure that he wasn’t.

When Ozzie had first found Magus he had suspected that the boy had been thrown out by someone else. Most likely they had found him utterly worthless, since Magus’s control was so unrefined. Ozzie was not wasteful by nature. He wasn’t about to give up such a powerful weapon just because it lacked training. It was no matter that Magus eventually grew out of being his student and his tool, and decided he wanted to be Ozzie’s better.

There was one lingering scrap of Magus’s influence that Ozzie let himself be grateful for. He had forced Flea and Slash to work together for so long that they had grudgingly gotten used to it. At least now Ozzie didn’t have the two of them at each other’s throats all the time.

Both of them were too preoccupied with their petty sulking about the past and each other to see what needed to be done now. Now was not the time for revenge or flair, it was time to regroup. Their war against the humans would not die with Magus. They might have been weakened, but Ozzie believed that their cause would eventually be rewarded.

Ozzie sucked a bit of grease off his fingers, enjoying himself. Some of the Mystics had taken a liking to human meat, but Ozzie had never taken to it. It was filthy meat. He privately thought of humans as junk food, not fit for his palate.

They really were good for nothing, those humans. At least their skeletons had some use after death. His puppet clacked its bones together clumsily, as if agreeing with him.

Without Magus’s power, Ozzie didn’t think this war would end while he was still fit enough for battle. Maybe in his lifetime, but probably not under his command. It wouldn’t truly end until the humans were on their knees, until they realized that the Mystics were the superior beings.

Ozzie gnawed the last scrap of meat from the bone he was holding before biting down on it, twisting it until he heard a satisfying snap. He tilted the broken bone to suck out the marrow. He was going to enjoy his food and his fire as he looked to the future of their revolution.


	4. Last Rites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After storming Ozzie's fort (side quest), Magus discovers some old 'friends.'

‘Traitor,’ they had called him. Flea even had the guts to tell him, ‘You deserve to be punished,’ as if he thought Magus was weak enough to submit to a beating.

They had been fools to assume that he had ever followed their cause. Ridiculous. Magus exchanged loyalties with no one. Who he fought alongside didn’t matter, as long as his opponent remained the same. Lavos.

Still, as he looked down at the two bodies sprawled on the floor, Magus felt a twinge of an almost unknown feeling. Guilt. Ozzie he could squash his pity for. He was nothing if not a survivor, and a dangerous Mystic to pity, besides. Giving him even a toehold would be foolhardy. The other two, however, Magus had trouble dismissing so easily.

After a moment of consideration, Magus first lifted Slash over one shoulder, then Flea over the other. Ozzie would be left behind, in the hole he had fallen into, trapped in his own shield. Magus would not take the time to unearth him. He had only two arms and limited pity.

No one questioned him. They offered him privacy by pretending not to see as he carried their two injured enemies outside.

He lay first one, than the other in the grass a safe distance from the fort. They intended to bring the fort down, but Magus would not have these two parish inside when they did.

Flea’s body was so still that Magus had to stop and check that he was still breathing. The tiny shift in an indrawn breath was enough of a sign for him to take his hands away. Flea must be as childish as Magus had remembered, still blindly following a revolution that was doomed to fail even without their intervention.

Still, Magus had to admit that his shape-shifting abilities had been very useful. He had even posed as Magus once or twice, though he had not been trusted with truly important tasks. Flea’s help had simply given Magus more time to prepare without rousing suspicions about his true plan to destroy Lavos, not set him to destroy the world. No one had ever come close to discovering their trick.

Slash was already stirring, trying to regain consciousness. Magus had no worries about his chances of recovering. He had even come close to admiring Slash’s physical strength at times.

There was an odd mark on his neck, though. Upon closer inspection Magus realized it was a burn. It looked like the mark of one of Flea’s favorite fire attacks, and it had apparently been left untreated. The two of them had always just barely managed to tolerate one another, but it looked as if they had finally come to blows.

It didn’t really matter. This was the last Magus expected to see of either of them. They were as safe as he could make them, and that was more than they should have expected of him at all.

As he headed back to the Epoch, Magus didn’t spare the time to look back. Crono was waiting for him, but only a nod passed between them. Magus was secretly glad that they had revived him. If nothing else, the red-haired boy had never pestered him with conversation.

Magus climbed into the Epoch beside Crono in silence, ready to leave this time behind him. He didn’t care if he ever returned. The days when he had commanded his army of Mystics, perhaps the last great army, were long behind him. Magus had paid his last respects, and buried his last regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Frog-kun for telling me where to find the scripts for the game, I fixed the quotes at the beginning.
> 
> Because it apparently confused a few people: Yes, Flea is alive, he's just not in very good shape so he's not waking up right away.


End file.
